I DWELL in a lonely house I knowThat vanished many a summer ago,And left no trace but the cellar walls,And a cellar in which the daylight falls,And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow. O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shieldThe woods come back to the mowing field;The orchard tree has grown one copseOf new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;The footpath down to the well is healed. I dwell with a strangely aching heartIn that vanished abode there far apartOn that disused and forgotten roadThat has no dust-bath now for the toad.Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; The whippoorwill is coming to shoutAnd hush and cluck and flutter about:I hear him begin far enough awayFull many a time to say his sayBefore he arrives to say it out. It is under the small, dim, summer star.I know not who these mute folk areWho share the unlit place with me–Those…

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a renowned poet and educator of the 19th century. He achieved the highest level of literary success both in the United States and internationally. Longfellow, a Harvard professor, was the son of a Harvard graduate and attorney and the grandson on his maternal side of General Peleg Wadsworth (American Revolution). The most famous of his works are: The Landlord’s Tale – Paul RevereListen, my children, and you shall hearOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere… Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie A Psalm of Life The Song of Hiawatha Interestingly, Edgar Allan Poe was a big critic of his work in what became known as the “Little Longfellow War” in 1845. I’ll post a copy of an article detailing it from the Poe Museum soon. I started this post because I found this Longfellow poem and really liked it. Hope you enjoy reading it. Each heart has its haunted chamber, Where the silent moonlight falls!On the floor are mysterious footsteps, There are whispers along the walls! And mine at times is haunted By phantoms of the PastAs motionless as shadows By the silent moonlight cast. A form sits by the window, That is not seen by day,For as soon as the dawn approaches It vanishes away. It sits there in the moonlight Itself as pale and still,And points with its airy finger Across the window-sill. Without before the window, There stands a gloomy pine,Whose boughs wave upward and downward As wave these thoughts of mine. And underneath its branches Is the grave of a little child,Who died upon life’s threshold, And never wept nor smiled. What are ye, O pallid phantoms! That haunt my troubled brain?That vanish when day approaches, And at night return again? What are ye, O pallid phantoms! But the statues without breath,That stand on the bridge overarching The silent river of death? Henry Wadsworth…

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake written perhaps in 1803 but not published until 1863. He died in 1827. Augur means to be a sign of especially good or bad things in the future. The Doors quoted him in their 1965 recording of “End of the Night”. To see a World in a Grain of SandAnd a Heaven in a Wild FlowerHold Infinity in the palm of your handAnd Eternity in an hourA Robin Red breast in a CagePuts all Heaven in a RageA Dove house filld with Doves & PigeonsShudders Hell thr’ all its regionsA dog starvd at his Masters GatePredicts the ruin of the State A Horse misusd upon the RoadCalls to Heaven for Human blood Each outcry of the hunted HareA fibre from the Brain does tear A Skylark wounded in the wing A Cherubim does cease to sing The Game Cock clipd & armd for fightDoes the Rising Sun affright Every Wolfs & Lions…